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Sophia Fagone Mar 2014
So I stand here still, like a statue in a museum
I’m frozen
My palms are sweaty,
my tears are burning me like acid on my skin
I reach my hand down the grab a hold of you
You are so little, in a giant world with no way to comprehend what is happening
You are so innocent with your little black dress
and your ocean blue eyes

I see his smile in yours,
I hear his laugh in your voice,
He is everywhere,
in the moon, and the stars,
looking down watching over us
He is in the beach waves
crashing onto shore, but yet always finding its way back to the ocean
He is in your singing, while your rehearsing for your concert

He is everywhere, but he is gone
They took him from us, he said ‘baby don’t worry I’ll be home someday’
But they took him, shot down his plane,
and left nothing but ashes and skin burning on the ground
Left a wife without a husband,
a baby girl without a daddy
A mother without a son

They say he is a hero,
He died for freedom
He fought for our country
Well congratulations US, my husband is gone,
and your country is free

So as I look down at you,
a helpless little girl
with no daddy to tuck you in at night
or to tell you what is right and wrong
What am I supposed to say when you grow up
and ask
why your daddy has been taken from you
I’ll have no words,
I will look into those ocean blue eyes of yours
and see him.

I close my eyes
and see him, standing right in front of me, with his army green on
He is running toward me,
faster, faster, faster
Until I freeze,
I stand still like a statute and I can’t breathe
My throat is blocked from the tears trying to escape my eyes
He’s gone,
****, just like that
My one true love, my soul mate, my everything
is gone

I watch as they carefully fold up your flag
Place it on your coffin
and salute the flag flying high in the sky.
Another soldier has fallen
Another man never coming home
Another family never going to see their loved one again

I glance down to see a microscopic tear, rolling down your face
You reach your hand up to me, and say ‘Mommy, daddy is home now’
I’ve lost it now, my strength, my grace,
the tears are burning like rain on a hot summer night

I wake up in a pool of my own sweat,
the letter I’ve read a thousand times, under my pillow,
I’m still young,
waiting for him to come home so we can start our lives together
That nightmare I had, will not become our reality, because he said
‘Baby, don’t worry, I’ll be home someday’
Sophia Fagone Mar 2014
Your bright red visor
turned backwards so the wind won’t devour it
Your bright red skis
zipping down the race course
Your bright red visor
facing forward to block the sun as you swing the club and strike the golf ball

My bright red lipstick
kisses my mouth,
as I prepare to perform
My bright red costume
sparkles in the stage lights
My bright red lipstick
ruined from the tears streaming down my face.

The thoughts running through my head
are like traffic
Bright, loud and slow moving
I can’t think
Can’t breathe
Can’t speak
What is happening?

When a person dies
Where do they go?
The after life?
All these questions that will never be answered
Science can explain how someone dies
but not what happens after

Science told me that he had melanoma
Science told me that our time was limited
Science can’t tell me how he felt
Science can’t tell me what he was thinking when that last puff of air reached his lungs
Science can’t tell me how much he loved me
But the answer to that last question, is so clear

My bright red lipstick
kisses my mouth,
My midnight black dress
draped on my curves
My bright red lipstick
ruined from the tears streaming down my face

Your bright red visor
now worn by the man I call my daddy
Your bright red skis
still zipping down the course,
but with a different skier, your son,
Your bright red visor,
a reminder to those, that you are still with us.
Sophia Fagone Mar 2014
The rush
The grace
The feeling I get when I dance
My heart beating faster and faster and faster
Until everything falls silent

Its me
And the music
Just Me
And the rhythm

My heart is beating, my feet are moving
My head is spinning, I hit it
A switch turns on inside of me
I’m in it to win it now
I want that platinum, I want to make you proud of me
I want to be the dancer you want me to be
But ballet, thats not it.

You ruined this, you told me I wasn’t good enough
Point your toes,
lift your chin,
hold your leg higher
Do this, do that. Who cares?
Do I look like a prima ballerina to you?
I am not tall, I am not lanky
I am not skinny, I am not light
And I’m sorry but I have *****.

You can push me,
Stretch me, pull me in all different directions
To do what?
Make me more flexible, more graceful, more

You have beaten me down with your words,
so much that the one thing I loved most in the world
has slowly been slipping away from me
Dance doesn’t define who I am,
It is who I am.
Dance is me
I am dance

I’m big *****, I have strong muscles
I’m not graceful, when you tell me to hit it hard,
I hit it with intensity, with power
Don’t ask me to prance around in a pink tutu.
I won’t.
Put me in harem pants, and a baggy sweatshirt
Throw some beats down
And I’ll groove it
Pop it, slide it, lock it
Sharp sharp smooooooth
So many different moves,
Some don’t even have names
No Fouetté, or jeté
No relevé, or adagio
What do these even mean?
Do I look french to you?

I’d rather body roll
Chest pop
And just let my body do the talking
I don’t dance to impress you
I don’t dance to please your needs
I don’t dance for high scores
I dance to express the words I cannot speak
Sophia Fagone Feb 2014
He looks at her from across the room.
The smile on his face like the treasure cat.
His eyes light up like lanterns in a dark sky.
She glances back, but doesn't notice.
All she sees is a lonely boy with no friends,
a boy with no future.
She is preoccupied with pointless things,
he was never given the chance to prove to her,
he is something.

He is the answer to the questions she has in her head
He is waiting for her to notice
Why won't she just look up
and see what she has been looking for
guy after guy
party after party
He is still by her side
Leading her, guiding her
trying to make her realize
he is something
Sophia Fagone Dec 2013
We talked today
For the first time in weeks
And I thought
Maybe someday


We could be friends again

And then I stopped being a fool
And realized
I could never again
Be just friends
With you
Sophia Fagone Dec 2013
When I was a little girl I used to sit in the audience and watch, as all the dancers on stage lit up my tiny world. They were fabulous, sparkly and their technique was flawless. I wanted to be up there, and I wanted to be as amazing as them. The pounding of the music, and the atmosphere surrounding me was unbelievable. I was a little girl lost in a big world. I couldn’t wait until that was me, I wanted to be perfect, I wanted to be amazing. Now I am one of the oldest in my class, and I know the girls look up to me. I am trying to be the best role model I can be. I want little girls to be inspired like I was. For generations to come, girls who push themselves to become better, that’s the reason why I dance. I love seeing the progress in people, and myself.
About six years ago I joined my very first hip hop class. I had never taken anything like it before. I was a ballerina, and I wasn’t very graceful. So I thought I’d try something new. I walked into a strange room with strange people. I was so nervous, what if I wasn’t good enough? What if people made fun of me? I still remember the look my teacher DeeDee gave me, it was a welcoming, sort of frightening look. She was a fiery red head, and she was full of energy. She was bouncing around, her curls flying everywhere. Those curls, I had some of my own, but I was determined to hide them, so I straightened them everyday. Her hair was flying and whipping and I couldn’t help but just stare. She was a goddess sent down from heaven to teach me how to be a better dancer. Today my dream job is a dance teacher. I strive to be like DeeDee, and I want to live a life full of dance and kids like she does.  
After  that first year of classes, I still wasn’t the best, but I had come so far. I remember wanting to quit, but DeeDee wouldn’t let me. She said I had potential. This meant so much to me, and it felt so good to have someone believe in me. I kept going at it, and finally I had accomplished moving to the older class. To dance with girls older than me was intimidating but it was also a great learning experience. I was pushed by DeeDee to get better, and I wasn’t allowed to quit. No matter how tough things got, I trusted DeeDee when she told me “Hit it hard” I had good days and I had many bad days, but those bad days were a learning experience and I am better today because of it.
The success and the progress I have made in my past years of dancing have all been thanks to DeeDee St. Peter. Without her I probably would not of had the strength to keep dancing and keep trying. To this day I still have DeeDee as a coach, and we are closer than ever. I can count on her for anything and everything. If I ever need someone to talk to, then I can always go to her. She is a great listener and a wonderful friend. I am not a senior yet, but I know, when the day comes that I dance in her class for my final year, I will cry. I will always keep the lessons I have learned, and the memories we have will be forever with me. DeeDee will forever be my hero, and I couldn’t ask for a better coach, teacher, and friend.
Sophia Fagone Dec 2013
Slice. Cut. Butcher.*
When a person hears those words they think:
Meat. Wound. Deli.*
When I hear those words I think:
Skin. Blood. Pain.

I'm too much of a coward, I can't **** myself.
But I can hurt myself.
And that has relieved my pain.
Now I am numb.
I can no longer feel anything.

I've given up everything.
My friends. My family. My life.
I have devoted myself to my pain.
Sooner or later my life will end.
I don't want anyone to know the real me.

I can't fight the tears that flood down my face,
like the blood flows from my tan skin onto the floor.
Now everything is a blur. I can feel myself getting weaker.
The last image I see is,

for roses, and hearts.
for blood, and fear.
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